A/N I didn't love parts of this chapter and some it feels a little clumsy, but it is what it is, I suppose :)

THANK YOU so much to everyone who has kept with me this far and has been reading and reviewing! You guys are the best!

Chapter Nine

Dean and Cas fell into an easy rhythm as they dug, and the pile of dirt next to the grave steadily grew. Dean ditched his jacket despite the cool temperature and the occasional raindrops as he worked up a sweat, but Cas never bothered to remove his coat.

Digging graves could never be considered a good time, but this time…this time it felt different. This time it was Dean digging up his little brother.

He had dug enough graves in his lifetime to know that they were only about five or so feet deep when his shovel hit something that wasn't dirt. Dean halted for a second, his heart jumping up into his throat before he used the tip to scrape away the next layer of dirt.

Something hard and grey appeared.

"Cas," he called urgently, tossing his shovel aside and using his hands to frantically brush the remaining dirt away. Cas hurriedly did the same. Slowly, a body shrouded in the grey cast was exposed. Working together, Cas and Dean freed it from the ground and then heaved it up to rest next to its grave.

It wasn't Sam.

The shoulders were too narrow and the body too small.

Biting back the bitter disappointment, Dean closed his eyes before turning to Cas. "What now?" he asked roughly, wiping the sweat from his face.

Cas, as was becoming the norm for the last few days, took charge without hesitation. "The next body isn't far, we can dig that one up as well. After that, we can take both of them to where Hayley buried her first victim. That will be our rendezvous point with Mary and Jack and then we can go from there."

Dean nodded, more than a little grateful that Cas was willing to do the strategizing and planning because it was an effort to think of anything besides getting Sam back. Cas took the upper body and Dean took the feet and they carefully carried it to where Hayley had indicated the next grave was.

By that point, it was starting to rain more steadily and thunder rolled heavily in the distance, promising more to come. As they began to dig, it became a full downpour and both Cas and Dean were soaked through to their skins and shivering by the time that they unearthed the second mummified body.

This one also wasn't Sam, and the disappointment was just as bitter as it had been the first time. He just wanted Sam back, was that too much to ask?

"We'll find him soon," Cas said, sensing Dean's frustration even as they each gathered up one of the bodies, preparing to carry them through the woods and back to where Hayley's first victim had been laid to rest.

Mary and Jack had already returned from taking Hayley back and were about knee-deep in the ground. As Cas and Dean lowered their burdens onto the forest floor, Jack reported briefly that they had given Hayley enough sedatives to knock out an elephant before locking her in the Impala's trunk.

They were all anxious to finish the task before them, and Cas and Dean left to dig up their third grave of the night.

They worked in thick silence and as quickly as they could, despite the way that the dirt had turned into thick mud. Dean had put his jacket back on when it had started to rain in earnest but he was still shivering as the cold rain pelted down on them like small daggers. His hair had been completely plastered to his head and water continued to drip down into his face but he didn't pause to wipe it out of his eyes or to try and warm up.

The chances of this grave being Sam's had to be high. It was fifty-fifty odds.

They were about four feet deep in the muck when Cas stiffened. "I can see the body," he announced and Dean's head jerked up. Digging through the remaining mud with the tip of his shovel, his breath caught as the grey casting became visible.

Setting aside the shovel, he once again began to dig with his hands, pulling out scoops of cold mud and shoving them off to the side. It became clear after a few moments that Dean was working on uncovering the legs.

"Switch places with me," he ordered, flinging his hand full of mud off to the side and trying to shake his hands clean. Cas didn't comment or protest, edging past Dean in the tight hole so that Dean could work to uncover the head.

Fervently, he removed large handfuls of sludge until first the shoulders and then the head appeared.

He didn't need to cut through the casing or pull the body completely out to know that this was Sam. This was his brother, and his heart was already slowing the frantic beat that it had been verging on ever since Sam had been taken.

Dean took one moment for them as he laid his muddy hand atop Sam's head. "Hang on just a little longer," he murmured, before going back to work digging out the sludge from around Sam so that they could leverage him out. Cas was doing the same by his knees and soon he was able to slide his hands underneath Sam's shoulders in preparation to lift him.

Cas bent down, locking his hands underneath Sam's knees.

"On three," Dean said, blinking the rain out of his eyes. Cas nodded and after a silent count, they both heaved. Sam couldn't exactly be considered light, and the mud pulled at him, fighting to keep him firmly in its grasp.

Dean grunted, putting his legs into it. "Again," he ordered, and then Sam was popping free with a squelch. They hoisted him up and over the edge of the hole and rolled his body onto the wet forest floor.

Dean hurriedly clambered out after him. Kicking his shovel aside carelessly, he knelt next to the body, looking it over and reassuring himself that this was Sam.

No one else was that freakishly tall, nor their shoulders that broad.

Dean laid one hand on his brother's chest, the other once again resting on the crown of his head again. "Sammy," he said, not trying to hide the waver in his voice. He dropped his head down as a bone-rattling relief washed over him and let it rest against Sam's forehead, not caring in the slightest that it was getting him muddier than he already was.

He had Sam, and everything would be fine, they would bring him back. They would save him and, in turn, they would save Dean as well.

"Don't break the casing," Cas warned behind him and Dean lifted his head, looking back at his longtime friend with a glare.

"I'm not going to risk him like that," he said gruffly even as he shifted into a crouch. "Here, help me get him over my shoulder. I'm going to take him back to the Impala. You can go help the others."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I can do it. We still have another body to dig up but Sam's not spending a moment longer out here than he has to. It's pouring rain if you haven't noticed." Actually, it was cold enough that the rain was starting to freeze into slush and the sooner he got Sam out of the elements the better.

Cas opened his mouth, and then shut it again with an exasperated look on his face but moved forward to help.

It was difficult with the casing, even if there was some flexibility, but they managed to get Sam over Dean's shoulder. Wrapping an arm around his thigh to keep him in place, Dean grunted as he surged up onto his feet. Cas braced his arm, helping him to find his balance as Dean hefted Sam up into a more secure and comfortable position.

For several minutes they stayed together, Cas following along just behind Dean and ready to offer his help if called upon. When they reached a break in the tree that led back to the path, Dean half-turned.

"I've got it from here," he said, his hands tightening around his brother and Cas nodded and continued through the trees.

Taking a deep breath, Dean began the trek down the mountain and back to the Impala.

It was a long couple of miles. Sam wasn't exactly light and the sleet was making everything slick and more than once Dean almost lost his footing. He was sweating heavily and his muscles were loudly protesting the strain when the Impala finally came into sight.

Wrestling the back door open, he slid Sam's body off his shoulder and then dropped him into the bench seat. Straightening with a low wheeze, Dean took just a second to lean against the car, his back aching as he panted. After he had regained control of his breathing, he began to gently wrestle Sam into as comfortable of a position as he could, ignoring the mud and water that was getting on the upholstery.

Sam hadn't really fit in the backseat for years, not since he'd hit his growth spurt in high school. Still, he had made it work when he was alive and now was no different.

Satisfied that Sam was as comfortable as he was going to get, Dean twisted and sat in the footwell, leaning his head back against the seat where Sam's head was cushioned.

"Dude, when you are alive and talking again you are so going on a diet…" he mumbled, rubbing at his sore shoulder. The old joke left a sour taste in the back of his mouth and he dropped his hand with a sigh, gazing over his brother. Sam didn't need to go on a diet. If anything, he needed to eat more. He needed to take care of himself, actually eat and sleep for a change, and Dean would be damned if he let him waste away this time, not after he was being given this second chance. Third chance. Fourth chance. Whatever it was, Dean wasn't about to squander it over something as dumb as Sam being too preoccupied with everyone else's needs to look after himself.

"But I'm going to fix that, once you get back. I'm going to make sure that you take care of yourself."

He reached back, lightly squeezing what felt like Sam's arm. As soon as he could, he was cutting the damn casing off of Sam. He was sick of looking at his brother and only seeing his mummified body.

Dean couldn't stay here forever. Heaving a sigh, he patted Sam's arm once more and used the side of the car door to heave himself up and onto his feet with a low groan.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he vowed, "I just have to help with a few things so you sit tight and wait."

Closing the car door, he locked it behind him and then stared in at Sam's unmoving body.

He'd be fine.

Checking the trunk to make sure that it was still locked and that Hayley hadn't escaped, Dean turned and headed back through the rain.

Before he rounded the bend that would put the Impala out of sight, he couldn't help but glance back once at Sam. Despite being chilled to the bone, Dean was grateful for the cold rain and that it wasn't the middle of summer. The thought of Sam's body rotting in the hot backseat of a car for what could easily be a couple of hours made him feel sick to his stomach but it wasn't summer.

He'd be fine, Dean would make sure of it.

Only Jack was in the clearing when Dean reached it. He stood guard over what was now three additional bodies that had been lined up in a neat row.

"Which direction…?" he trailed off as Jack pointed into the trees.

"They've been gone for about an hour. They're probably about done," he said and Dean nodded. Wiping the rain out of his eyes, he moved off in that direction. He had only gone a couple of yards when Mary and Cas, awkwardly carrying the fourth and final body between them, appeared.

They laid the last body down and for a long moment they were all silent as they regarded the scene before them. Dean chewed on the side of his cheek and then said, "Before we try anything on Sam, we should run a test trial on one of them first." Maybe it made him selfish, but what they were about to try and do sounded tricky and he couldn't—wouldn't—risk Sam by letting him be the first experiment.

He was going to give Sam every possible advantage that he could get.

Mary shrugged and nodded willingly enough and if Cas or Jack had anything to say about it, they didn't voice it. It was an uncomfortable feeling, though, almost like they were playing God with the lives of these poor souls, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to feel too bad about it.

Cas was right, they had paid their dues and if this was the one good thing to come out of it, then Dean would take it.

"We should do this back at the motel and in as sanitary of a condition as possible," Cas said after another moment and they all nodded again, even though the statement was obvious.

Dean had performed some pretty risky medical procedures on Sam in less-than-ideal circumstances, but that was only when he had to. They had the time to do this one right and Dean couldn't risk for them not to.

"Right," Mary straightened and shook her wet hair out of her face as she took charge. "I don't think that any of us want to hike back out here again. Everyone grab a body and let's go. Jack, you take that one there," she gestured at the first body that Cas and Dean had dug up. It was the smallest and would be the easiest to carry.

Mary stepped forward, helping Jack to work the body over his shoulder and making sure that he didn't topple over. He was bent forward underneath the weight, but he nodded tightly at Cas when he asked him if he was okay.

The other three proceeded to pick one of their own and once they all were situated, they started off in one of the strangest processions that Dean had been a part of.

#

It was a relief to reach the parking lot and the cars, the bodies weighing each of them down. Placing them carefully in the back of the pickup truck one after the other, Dean left Cas and Mary to tie down a tarp over the back to hide them from view and made a beeline for the Impala. Jack had already retreated to the dryness and relative warmth of Cas's car.

Ducking down to see through the window, he wiped the rainwater away with his sleeve, assuring himself that Sam was right where he had left him. Straightening, he looked back around.

"I'll meet you back at Hettinger. Text me the name of the motel where you are staying," Dean called, half yelling to be heard over a roll of thunder. Mary flashed a thumbs up and Cas nodded and Dean went around to the driver's side of the Impala. Getting in, he positioned the rearview mirror so that it looked into the backseat rather than the road.

"Almost done, Sammy," he murmured, not that Sam would answer. He was getting tired of having one-sided conversations.

Without waiting for the others, he took off back down the mountainside, his windshield wipers working hard to keep the rain clear. The heater had been turned on low and this time, he did play music. Not as loud as he might have when he'd been just a kid or as it had been recently but it was still there. He hummed along as he drove, his fingers tapping repeatedly against the steering wheel as he sent frequent glances back at his brother.

Once he reached Hettinger it didn't take him long to find the motel. It didn't look like a total dump and for that Dean was grateful.

It was almost ten in the morning by that point and Dean willingly paid the extra half-day charge to get an early check-in. Right now, he was willing to fork out any money and pay any price as long as he knew that Sam was going to be safe and comfortable for a little bit.

Dean did have to wait in the car for the housekeeper to finish in the room next to theirs before he dared to bring Sam in. The last thing that they needed was the maid calling the cops on him because he had been seen with a body. It wasn't raining in the valley quite yet but Dean left the car running as he waited, still soaked through, muddy, and cold.

Once she had moved on down the line of rooms, Dean wrapped the old and worn-thin blanket from the trunk around his brother as best as he could to further disguise him before he hoisted him back over his shoulder and staggered into the room.

Kicking the door shut behind them, he moved to the bed closest to the door and carefully dropped Sam down onto it. Crossing to the windows, he hurriedly pulled the blinds, casting the room into gloom, and turned back to Sam. Unwrapping the blanket from around him, he tossed it across the foot of the other bed and then stopped, chewing on his lower lip.

He wanted nothing more than to sit down and just be with Sam, but he had other responsibilities. Sam would be safe here and he would continue to wait for Dean but he couldn't help him just yet.

It was still damn hard to leave and, as an extra precaution, Dean marked all the entrances with the protective sigils just in case Hayley somehow managed to slip through their fingers once again.

She was never going to lay another finger on Sam.

After that, there was nothing left to do but it still took more effort than he cared to admit to pull away and leave Sam behind yet again.

Cas and Mary had arrived by then and were standing next to the white pickup truck, eyeing the same housekeeper that Dean had been avoiding earlier as she worked her way down the row.

"She might not notice," Mary was saying quietly, her lips thinning.

"Right. She's not going to notice us bringing in four bodies. We might be able to get away with one, but four? I don't know. The risk is high," Cas said slowly, rubbing at his jaw.

Jack shrugged. "What if I go distract her? I saw how to do it once on a TV show and it wasn't hard," he said, smiling proudly and with the pure innocence that was just Jack.

"We don't need long, maybe five minutes," Dean said in agreement as he moved around to the back of the truck and began to unlash the ropes holding the tarp down. The quicker that they got this done, the quicker he could get back to Sam.

Jack waited until she was out next to her cart, and then began to engage her in conversation, allowing them to start moving the bodies into the door that was propped open by a small trashcan.

Cas took one body by himself while Dean and Mary lifted another one together and then they repeated the process with the last two. Jack shifted to block them from view and kept up the pretense long enough for them to get all four bodies inside. He returned with an armful of towels and soaps, which he dumped on the chair.

"You just have to keep asking them for things one at a time. She was rather irritated by the end." Jack looked troubled about that and Mary smiled.

"You should have just asked for her number before you left. That would have done a lot to soothe any bad feelings."

"Oh. Is that…would that have…" Jack made a face, blushing a little and Dean almost smiled. He might have had he not just finished sneaking bodies into a motel room.

That, and maybe if Sam's body wasn't also in the motel.

Dean glanced around the room, shaking his head as he took in everything. This was—horrible didn't seem to cover it. He was staring at the Du'a jiraataa's destruction, at the evil that it had brought upon the world.

After all this was finished, he would be more than happy to kill Hayley and put an end to all this.

Mary had printed out the email that Sakina had sent over with more detailed instructions and she laid out down on the table, bending over it. Cas joined her, reading over her shoulder and Dean…Dean didn't think that he wanted to be here. Cas looked over at him and then shifted, making room for him but Dean shook his head.

He was already uneasy about everything that was about to happen and he wasn't sure that he wanted to know just how much could go wrong.

"I'm—we are going to need the toxin from Hayley. I'm not sure how much force I'll have to use to get it so I want us to be alone so I'm going to take her back to the factory. I'll—I'll be back as soon as I can."

Cas nodded once and then went back to studying the printout, his face serious as he pointed something out to Mary in a low mummer. Dean nodded to himself and then backed out of the room, giving the bodies one last glance.

The chances of success were not in their favor.

It was a relief to be back outside, Dean breathed in the fresh air deeply before getting back into the Impala. It didn't take long to reach the factory and Dean parked in the back again and away from prying eyes.

Preparing a syringe with sedatives, he went around to the back of the trunk but he shouldn't have worried. Hayley merely cowed away from him when he popped the trunk, her eyes flinching close as she brought her hands up to cover her face.

Grabbing her by her arms, he dragged her forcefully out of the car and led her stumbling back into her prison.

He had her strung up again in no time and then he took a step back, regarding her. "We've been here before, haven't we?"' he asked his arms folded across his chest.

Hayley refused to look at him, her chin trembling.

Dean didn't waste any more time on pleasantries as he held up the glass jar, shaking it. "I need some of your venom, toxin, whatever it is. So, you have two choices. You can make this easy and just give it to us, or I can carve off some more skin, maybe even some limbs just for fun. I have the perfect, rusty, knife in mind as well. Make your choice."

Hayley whimpered, still refusing to look anywhere but at the ceiling. Dean calmly took a step forward and grabbed her by her chin with bruising force.

"What was that?" he asked tightly, looming over her and squeezing until it was surely painful.

Hayley shook her head even as fat tears rolled down her face. "I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you," she whispered and Dean shook her roughly.

"I just need the toxin, then you can do whatever the hell you want to me," he snapped before he let go, breathing heavily. Hayley let out another sob as Dean held up the jar, shaking in her face.

When she didn't move, he bellowed, "NOW!" making her jump.

In the end, she didn't have a choice and she knew it. She was Dean's bitch.

Rolling her head back and still crying, Hayley let her jaw deform, allowing her fangs to drop down. Dean moved in and shoved the jar into her mouth, giving her something to bite down on. After a moment a droplet of a cloudy yellow toxin began to form at the edges of her fang before it rolled down into the jar.

He milked as much of the toxin as they could from Hayley, which wasn't as much as Dean would have wanted. It only filled the bottom of the jar and Dean turned it over hesitatingly.

"You're sure you can't give us anymore?" he asked Hayley, not unprepared to use violence if it would help.

"I can't control it," Hayley pleaded, clearly thinking the same thing that Dean was, and Dean made a face, still examining the jar and its contents.

"Well, if it's not enough, I can just get more later."

Hayley gave a terrified whimper and Dean shrugged. Holding the jar carefully he looked over at Hayley. She was dangling from her handcuffs, which had been looped over a piece of rope that had been strung from the beams.

She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I'll be back," he said stiffly. She glowered at him but Dean didn't pay it any head as he turned his back, eyeing the toxin that could change everything.

He made his way to the motel and knocked once. Jack opened the door just a crack and Dean slipped in.

One of the bodies—a young girl—was lying on the bed naked and stripped of her grey burial shroud. A sea of medical equipment surrounded her and Dean's stomach churned over.

The mood in the room was grim and no one seemed as confident as they had been an hour ago.

"Here—" Dean passed over the jar, his eyes never leaving the girl's still face.

Cas took it and Dean wrenched his gaze away to look at his old, seeking reassurance but Cas's face didn't hold the same that it had out in the woods.

He looked nervous and Dean's heart skipped a beat.

He knew that he should want to stay. That he should want to experience and see what was about to happen so that he could better help Sam but part of him felt sick at the thought. His hope was hanging on by a very tentative thread and he didn't think that he wanted to know all that could go wrong.

Maybe that made him a coward but he didn't care.

"I'm—I can't—" he looked pleadingly at Cas, begging him to understand. To his great relief, he nodded tightly.

"I'm not sure how long we'll be. I will let you know when we will be ready to help Sam," Cas said and Dean nodded dumbly, unable to say what he was thinking.

This room reeked of death and hopelessness and Dean fled.

They didn't need him, they had more than enough help. Sam needed him now.

Opening the door, he slipped in and then moved the chair from the table over so that he could sit next to his brother. He sat down, before immediately standing again and heading towards the bathroom. He was filthy and still uncomfortably wet after digging up graves all night in the rain. Out of all the things that had gone wrong over the last couple of days, those things didn't even count but he couldn't afford to be dirty or trembling from cold when they worked on saving Sam.

Showering quickly in water that was as hot as he could make it, Dean scrubbed himself off roughly and thoroughly before hurriedly changing into fresh clothes. Only then did he allow himself to sit in the chair.

He kept a silent watch over his brother, his hands twisting together as he tried not to think about what was going to happen and what was happening in the other room. He about jumped out of his skin when his phone finally did ring. He stared swiftly, not even bothering to check who the caller was. "Cas?"

"It's me, Dean. Listen, I think that we'll be finished in about an hour. I don't think that there is any harm if you want to start removing the casing from around Sam now and it will help speed the process along. You don't have to, it's just easier—"

"I'll have it done," Dean interrupted, "Oh, and Cas, just you. Don't bring Mom or Jack."

There was a disapproving silence on the other end. "They will not like that, particularly your mother."

"I'm sure that there is more than enough to do with the other victims"—If they had survived, that was— "and Sam wouldn't want them here." It was a thin excuse, but it was the same one that everyone kept bringing up with Dean and if it was on the table then he was damn sure going to use it as well.

Sam probably wouldn't care but Dean did.

If he could have managed it without an angel as backup, he would have asked Cas to let him do it alone as well. This was something that was meant to be done with as few witnesses as possible.

"Dean…"

"Cas, this is the way that it's going to be," Dean repeated stubbornly and Cas let it drop.

"Fine. I will be there as soon as I can."

Dean hung up, and then turned back to Sam, eyeing him now with a critical eye. He wasn't sure of the best way to remove the casing…Dean wiped his clammy hands down his jeans. There was no reason for him to be nervous, everything was going to be fine.

Pulling out his favorite knife, Dean glanced over Sam's body, trying to determine the best place to start. Choosing a spot along his shin, Dean began to apply gentle pressure, unsure of how much force was going to be needed to break it open or how thick it was. His knife was sharp and it cut through the hard, outer, layer with ease but caught on the substance underneath. It was sticky and it clung to his knife with every cut that he tried to attempt, making it ineffective.

After a minute of fighting against it, Dean gave up and set his knife aside and instead used his fingers. Digging them into the hole that he had already created, he began to pull, further cracking the casing open and allowing him to pull handfuls of the sticky second layer away.

He continued to work his way up Sam's body, first prying the casing open and then scraping the substance off. It was working fairly well, even if it stuck infuriatingly to his hands, but it was slow going.

Hayley had stripped Sam of his clothes and despite Dean's best efforts remnants of the stuff remained glued to his brother's skin. It was going to be a nightmare to wash off, and Dean wasn't even thinking about how long it was going to take to get this out of Sam's hair when the time came.

That would be a problem for Sam to figure out if all went well.

Dean slowed as he reached Sam's shoulder and chest area and it was with greater hesitancy that he began to crack open the casing there. Once that was gone, he tentatively and gently began to pull away the sticky layer.

He was bracing himself for the worst and to be faced with the gaping wounds from earlier, but instead, he found wounds that appeared days old rather than recent. They weren't completely healed and still looked like they would be painful, but they couldn't do any more damage to Sam.

Sam was going to be alright, Dean had to believe it.

The smaller cuts that had adorned Sam's body earlier were even further along in the healing process and were nothing more than faint scars. However, while the break in his left arm had also started to heal, Hayley had clearly not been careful with Sam's body and the bone had begun to mend back together at an unnatural angle, leaving his arm twisted.

They were going to have to rebreak that if Sam ever wanted to regain full use of that arm again. Hell, if they didn't have an angel on the team then he probably never would but Dean would take Sam with a bad arm and alive then dead any day.

The twisted arm wasn't the only thing that was wrong with his brother's body.

Where Sam's left shoulder connected to his neck there was a swollen, fist-sized, lump. It was pulsating slowly and Dean had to look away, feeling sick to his stomach.

The egg. The whole reason that Sam had been killed, but also the reason that Sam could be brought back.

It was repulsive and Dean determinedly kept his gaze away as he continued to work to remove the casing along the side of Sam's neck, and then his face.

Dean had to stop for a long moment after that. He still knew Sam's face so well, but it was grey in death and his skin felt fragile to the touch, like if Dean scrubbed too hard it would flake right off.

Sam might have been with him once again physically, but his soul wasn't there. He was still nothing more than a corpse.

Dean had filled one trash bag and was working on another when a knock came at the door. Dean half-turned, his hands covered in the thick substance.

"Cas, that you?" he called.

"Yes."

"Pick the lock or whatever, can't come to the door," Dean yelled back as he returned to his task.

After a minute, the door opened and then Cas was standing next to Dean, holding an armful of supplies. Dean glanced back, offering a wan smile. Cas didn't return it, looking worn out and crestfallen. Dark shadows lined his eyes, and there was no doubt in Dean that his grace had already been used today.

It didn't do much to set the mood and Dean had to take a deep breath to try and settle his nerves.

Cas set his armful of medical equipment off on the side and then left, returning with more.

Dean eyed the growing pile warily, but he waited for Cas to close the door before daring to ask, "How many survived?" His gut clenched even as he asked and he had to look back down at the trashcan, pretending to focus on removing the substance from his hands.

"One," Cas said softly after a pause and Dean froze, his heart beating uncomfortably against his ribs.

Those weren't great odds.

He swallowed thickly and, giving up on scraping his hands off, went to the bathroom to try and wash them off instead. Using his elbow, he nudged the faucet on and began to run the hot water.

"Sam's a fighter," he abruptly called back from the bathroom and his voice caught on the last word. He cleared his throat, trying again. "Sam's not going to just give up. He's too damn stubborn."

"Mary and Jack said the same. They remained with the survivor and they will continue to monitor her condition until you allow them to be here. Once she is more stable, they are going to drop her off at the local hospital."

"Good." Dean wiped his hands off on a hand towel and Cas slid in behind him. He grabbed a washcloth and began to run it under the hot water before squeezing it out and passing it to Dean.

"We should clean him off as best as we can," he said grimly, getting one for himself.

"That's what I was working on. That stuff isn't exactly easy to get off," Dean grumbled half-heartedly as he returned to the main room and sat on the edge of the bed. He began to wash what he could off of Sam's chest and neck. In respect for Sam's modesty, he'd already dressed him in a pair of sweatpants.

Cas went to work on Sam's right arm, the unbroken one, wiping it down even as Dean's touch gentled and then slowed as he found himself staring into Sam's slack face.

"We are going to have to rebreak his other arm eventually," Cas said, breaking through Dean's thoughts.

"I know."

"But it can wait until he's stronger. The others were very weak when they were first brought back and I don't want to put any additional strain on Sam's body that we don't have to."

"No. That doesn't sound smart," Dean said in agreement. Sam could live with a bad arm for a few days or however long it would take to get him back up and on his feet. Cas dropped his washcloth off to the side and then went around the bed, digging through the medical equipment. He returned with IV tubing.

"What's that for?" Dean asked uneasily as Cas began to poke along Sam's right elbow, looking for a vein. That wasn't exactly easy to do with a dead body and Cas didn't answer until he had located a vein and slipped the needle in.

"Blood transfusions. We stole a couple of bags of O- when we were out earlier, but we won't run anything until his heart is beating."

"Do you think that he's going to need it?" Dean asked, his apprehension deepening.

"Probably. The others bled heavily as we were extracting the Du'a jiraataa but it is possible that he might not. This is…this is a crude form of healing and in many ways a guessing game. I can heal him after we pull it out, but there is only so much that I can do and I want to be prepared for the worst. I have a heart monitor as well, so…," Cas gestured back at the rag Dean was holding and Dean nodded in understanding. Abandoning the wet rag, he grabbed a dry hand towel from the bathroom and patted the skin dry to ensure that the pads would stick before he went in search of the heart monitor. Cas hung a bag of blood on the headboard and attached it to the IV even if he didn't open the port. It would be ready at a moment's notice if needed.

Dean located the portable heart monitor and then turned back to the bed. He didn't know where Cas had gotten it from and he didn't ask. He just put it on the bedside table. Peeling the protective layer off of the sticky leads, Dean placed one on each side of Sam's chest before placing a third one down a little bit lower on the left side of his ribs.

Cas nodded, taking a step back, his hands on his hips as he evaluated the setup. "Good," he said after a moment.

"What's next?" Dean asked and he was now starting to regret his decision to not witness the procedures.

"Next we bring him back and then we will surgically remove the parasite from his body. I am going to warn you, it's not easy or pleasant, and the Du'a jiraataa will fight us."

"So why not just take it out right now, before it has the chance?" Dean challenged apprehensively.

"We tried that. The victim's heart didn't beat for even a minute. We are thinking that the Du'a jiraataa also releases a stronger burst of the same toxins as the mothers to strengthen the host body as it is hatching. It is both saving him and damning him all at once."

"Awesome." Dean rubbed a hand over his face, heaving a worried sigh.

"It doesn't get better," Cas said seriously. "We have a very narrow window of time to try and pull the parasite out. Sam will be very, very, weak initially. Pull it out too soon, and he will die due to either the strain of the removal of the parasite or because we did not give the toxins enough time to work. He will gain strength, but remove the Du'a jiraataa too late, and…well, the Du'a jiraataa will be out of our reach as it digs itself deeper into Sam's body. If that happens then we will not be able to remove it without causing irreparable harm."

"Great." Dean shook his head, scrubbing one hand through his hair. "That's just…great." That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"It will be alright, Dean, I still have hope of that," Cas said, his voice softening in sympathy and some of the hope from earlier coming back. Dean nodded, tight-lipped.

"Alright. Do you have a lighter?"

Dean blinked at the change of subject and then looked around for his damp jacket that he had tossed aside. Finding it, he returned with the lighter.

Flicking it on, Cas disinfected first a small but sharp pen knife and then a pair of tweezers. He laid them aside on the bedside table next to an empty mason jar.

Handing back the lighter, Cas looked up at him grimly as Dean pocketed it. "Are you ready?"

Dean's hands were getting clammy again and his stomach was in knots. He didn't think that even alcohol would help steady his nerves at this point. They would only have one shot at this.

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Dean ran a hand back through his hair and was horrified to realize that his hands were trembling. "We can do this. Sam can do this."

"I will be here. I will help him as much as I can," Cas said emphatically and Dean nodded, taking another deep breath. Cas moved back to the bedside table where a single syringe rested. It was filled with a small amount of the yellow toxin that he had taken from Hayley earlier.

Dean's heart contracted, his stomach rolling, and he reached down to grasp Sam's hand. It was cold and stiff to the touch. Clenching it, Dean leaned down until his mouth was near Sam's ear.

"You fight this, you hear me? We're going to help you, but you have to fight," he whispered, squeezing as hard as he could and stepping back. Cas went to insert the needle but Dean shook his head, beckoning for it.

"Give it here, I'll do it," he said and Cas handed it over.

"Insert it there," he instructed as he gently tilted Sam's head to the side and gestured at the mass of protruding skin. Dean nodded and, reaching across the bed, braced a hand against Sam's shoulder as he slid the needle in and then dispensed the toxin.

Cas reached back and flicked the heart monitor on.

It blinked to life as Dean tossed the used needle aside.

No heartbeat registered and it began to wail its alarm, setting Dean on edge.

"It takes a moment," Cas said hurriedly and Dean nodded but that didn't stop him from clasping Sam's hand again, trying to will his own strength into his brother.

"C'mon," he muttered as the line on the monitor continued to remain flat. Nothing was happening and this was his worst nightmare. "C'mon, Sammy, you can do it," he repeated roughly.

No heartbeat was registering and Dean's own heart had lodged itself in his throat. What was he supposed to do now? Cas's face was tightening in concern and that only further escalated Dean's panic.

"What now?" he demanded, unable to control the note of terror in his voice.

Before Cas could answer the heart monitor's wail skipped to a long, slow, beep, and a single heartbeat flashed across the screen.

Dean stared at it, unable to move or breathe, until another beat followed. And then another. The heart rate was slow and weak but Dean didn't care.

Sam was alive, and already his skin looked less grey as the color began to creep across his cheeks. Then Sam's chest rose minutely in a shallow inhale that was followed by an exhale. It was followed by another wheezing, deeper, one, and a film of tears blurred Dean's vision as he patted Sam's chest roughly.

"That's my boy! You keep fighting," he growled, winding his other hand into Sam's tangled and sticky hair, trying to ground him. "You stay with me. You hear me, Sammy? You stay with me and you keep fighting."

Cas moved in closer to the bed, his eyes flickering between the heart monitor, Sam's face, and the mass of skin on his shoulder. Dean glanced down as well and wished that he hadn't. They had clearly activated something as the skin there stretched, writhing and pulsating, but even as Dean watched it began to shrink.

The Du'a jiraataa was moving inwards.

"Cas…" he said, looking over, alarmed, but Cas just shook his head as he glanced at the heart monitor.

"Sam's still too weak, if we pull it out now, we will kill him. Give it a moment," he said grimly and Dean just stopped himself from telling Cas that he was wrong. That they had to get that thing out of his brother now.

Dean glanced at the shrinking mass, at the heart monitor, and then at Cas. Cas shook his head again even as he grabbed the pen knife, holding it over Sam's shoulder in preparation.

Dean chewed on his lower lip, his eyes flicking rapidly from Sam's shoulder to the heart monitor and back again.

Cas finally blew out a long breath, his face pained. "His heart rate is not as strong as I would like but we cannot wait any longer. I have to pull it out now or it will be too late. Hold him still," he commanded and Dean braced Sam with a hand against his good shoulder and his chest.

Taking the pen knife, Cas made a deep cut, releasing a flood of fluids and blood that spilled down his skin and soaked into the sheets.

Cas bent closer with an intense look of concentration as he made another, deeper, cut into Sam's shoulder and Dean glanced back at the heart monitor as blood continued to gush out of the wound.

Sam stiffened against the pain and Dean tightened his grip. "Steady," he coached, watching as Cas made another cut, this time widening the wound.

"Tweezers," he snapped a moment later as he set aside the blood-stained knife and held out his hand. Dean reached back to snatch them up and handed them over. Immediately Cas began to dig in the open wound, his face hard and his hands bloody.

Sam let out a low groan, his head rolling to the side as his eyes fought to open and Dean increased the pressure he was using to hold him down. "Easy, Sammy, easy. It's going to be over in just a moment."

Cas was now holding the wound in Sam's shoulder open with two fingers as he continued to dig with the tweezers. Bright red blood was staining his fingers up to the second knuckle and the sight made Dean feel sick.

The beeping of the heart monitor was picking up speed and Dean tore his attention away from Cas and up to Sam. His brother didn't look good. His skin had lost what little color it had regained and sweat was beading across his face and neck. He made a soft, hurt, sound as he tried to twist away from the pain.

"Just take it easy, it's going to be over soon, hang on," Dean instructed, tightening his grip and willing Sam to hear him. The heart monitor only continued to increase in speed, the beeping now bordering on a wail and Sam's heart wasn't going to be able to keep going like that for long.

"Cas—" Dean started to say, panic tinging his voice, but Cas interrupted him, his face lighting up in excitement as he began to pull back.

"Got it!"

"You hear that? Almost done, we're almost done," Dean grunted, straining to keep Sam in place as he tried to arch his back off the bed, making a strangled sound. His heart was going too damn fast and the shrill beeping was now a scream. Dean blinked sweat out of his own eyes.

"Hurry up," he rasped to Cas. "Get it out. Get it out right now!"

"I'm trying. They fight," Cas replied tightly even as he struggled, trying to pull the Du'a jiraataa out. He was still knuckle deep into the wound.

Sam was trying to fight back and Dean roughly held him down, using the full weight of his body to keep him pinned. His brother panted raggedly underneath him and each breath sounded fought for. To add to Dean's alarm, he could see the veins that were starting to bulge in his neck and forehead.

Sam was fighting, but it was taking its toll.

"I know, I know, almost done. Hang tight for just a couple more minutes," he pleaded before looking over. "Cas—" he tried to demand but Cas wasn't paying him any attention, his full focus on drawing out the parasite. His fingers and the tweezers were now out of the wound and Dean could just see the tip of the Du'a jiraataa. It was a bloated, wriggling, white…thing.

It was still fighting with everything that it had, trying to burrow back into the safety of Sam's body.

Beneath him, Sam gave a gasping wheeze as he fought and Dean closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, it was in time to watch Sam's eyes fly open, revealing murky hazel that stared unseeingly ahead.

"Sammy, hey, hey, hey. Sam, can you hear me?" he asked, risking letting go of his shoulder to brace his forehead. But Sam wasn't there, not really, and his eyes slammed closed again as his whole body seized and he strained against Dean's hold.

"Keep him still!" Cas snapped and Dean shifted back, straining just as hard to keep him down.

"Sam?" Dean tried again, fear making his voice sharp. It only increased when Sam abruptly went limp, his body sinking back into the mattress. The heart monitor began to wail in earnest and Dean looked over.

The line was once again flat.

"Sam—sonofabitch!" Dean felt like his own heart had been ripped from his chest. "SAM!" he bellowed, shaking Sam and trying to bring him back but it didn't do anything.

"Dean, I can't stop now," Cas hissed but Dean didn't need the prompting. Without having to be asked Cas was already shuffling up a few feet, making room for Dean to move into the correct position.

Intertwining his fingers, Dean placed them in the middle of Sam's chest and began to perform CPR with quick, hard, thrusts. Next to him, Cas continued to wrestle with the Du'a jiraataa and Dean could see that it was long—longer than his arm even—and it wasn't completely out yet.

Dean paused his CPR briefly, waiting to see if Sam's heart would start beating again on its own but nothing happened and he resumed it.

"Ah-ha!" Cas exclaimed from next to him and Dean looked up in time to see the last of the parasite pop free with a gush of blood and what sounded like a thin wail. Cas held the long, wriggling, thing away from his body and hurriedly moved over to the waiting mason jar, which he dropped it into and then screwed the lid on.

"Cas—" Dean called as he continued to perform CPR.

Sam's heart still wasn't beating and Cas set the jar aside and hurried back to the head of the bed, his blood-stained hand outstretched. Placing the heel of his hand over Sam's forehead, he opened his eyes and they glowed blue.

Dean paused, watching and hardly daring to breathe.

For a moment nothing happened and then Sam was seizing again, his back arching off the bed as the power flowed through Cas and into Sam. Then he went limp, his head lolling back against the pillow.

Dean held his breath, waiting for the most painful few seconds of his life, and then a slow and steady beeping filled the room as the heart monitor picked up a heartbeat. A moment later Sam took a deep breath and Dean dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers before just as quickly looking up.

Cas took a step back, swaying a little and panting heavily, and Dean slipped into the place that he had just vacated.

"Sam?" he called earnestly as he laid a hand on Sam's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall along with the thump of his heart for himself. His other hand came up, cradling the side of his lax face. "Sammy?"

"He will not wake up right now. I put him into a deep sleep and he needs rest to heal," Cas said hoarsely even as he stiffly moved around and opened the port to the bag of blood. "I healed what I could, but I can't—he's still going to be very weak. His body is readjusting to being alive and has been through something very traumatic. It didn't help that he lost a lot of blood just now."

Cas wasn't wrong. Blood was dripping off the blankets and onto the floor.

"But he's alive," Dean said forcibly, looking up and hoping that Cas could see the gratitude on his face.

"He is alive," Cas repeated softly, a look of wonder in his eyes. "I am sure that this does not need to be said, but we must monitor his condition closely. He is not out of the woods yet."

"Oh, trust me, Sam's not going to get another private moment until he's seventy." Dean reached down, a wave of emotions washing over him and making his eyes burn as he grabbed Sam's hand, squeezing it hard.

It was warm instead of waxy and cold and the lump in his throat was growing. Dean cleared it roughly, trying to blink his eyes clear.

"Do—ah, do I need to know anything else?" he asked quietly, squeezing Sam's hand again, and Cas shook his head.

"Just remember that it may take a while for Sam's strength to return, even with what help I was able to provide. There are just some things that take time."

"I know. We're taking it slow, I'm not expecting any marathons. Stay close to the motel just in case, but I'll let you know if we need anything," Dean said, turning back to Cas and smiling at him.

Cas took the dismissal with grace and bowed his head. "I'll be with Mary and Jack if you need anything or if Sam does. Do not hesitate to call, I can be here in a matter of seconds."

"I won't. Thank you. Cas, seriously. Thank you. I—thank you." Dean didn't think that anything he could say or do would show Cas just how grateful he was. Without Cas he would have—Sam would be—Dean smiled again and knew that his eyes were probably red.

"It was the least that I could do for Sam after all that he's done for me over the years," Cas said softly and Dean nodded again, unable to speak.

"Are you sure that you do not wish for me to stay?"

"Yeah, I've got him."

Cas respectfully retreated after one final glance back at Sam. The door shut behind him and then Dean and Sam were alone again.

Dean took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair before letting out a laugh. Sam was okay. The heart monitor was still showing a steady beat and his breathing was normal.

Sam was alive.